


A Matter of Time

by lulahbelle



Category: Jumper (2008)
Genre: Gangbang, M/M, Multi, Porn, Porn Without Plot, Possible Crossover, Public Sex, Toliet Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:32:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lulahbelle/pseuds/lulahbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Griffin is "ploughed like a ploughman's during the harvest".</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poziomeczka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poziomeczka/gifts).



> -I changed the opening because I found a different version that I'd written that I much preferred.  
> -This fic is poziomeczka's fault entirely, she suggested the world needed Griffin getting angry at being poorly fucked and this appeared in my mind.  
> -Well no, it's not entirely her fault, at least some blame rests with Jamie Bell for making Griffin so fuck hot and kick ass & with me for being a pervert.  
> -Lol scratch all that, this is actually no one's fault but my own.  
> -This fic is filthy, filthy dirty, totally porn without plot.  
> -The main OMC is based on the physical paticulars of a certain Mister Tatum, I sort of envisaged him as an AU version of Marcus so technically this is an Eagle crossover just more Jumper canon than Eagle, ya know...

Paladins had murdered Griffin's parents for trying to protect him. Their fate for his existence had taught him well. From an early age, rule number one for him was that he would not get 'involved' with other people.

It was no great tragedy. 

Between tracking Paladins across the globe to kill them, running and making sly use of his teleportation skills to reward himself with absolutely anything material that he could ever have wanted, there wasn't really the time for 'people' anyway.

He was so used to being alone that he barely ever felt lonely. 

His only problem was sex. He still got horny.

His libido was not tameable or controllable. Ever since puberty his need to get off was a lit thing, that burned through his veins and his concentration till it was satisfied. He needed to have a clear head if he was to stay alive, so he had to get off.

His first orgasm had been denied as long as possible but occurred anyway, a mess, splashed all over his belly to sweaty, frantic, pulse quickening thoughts of capture by big, faceless men. It always got him off quick which confused him but with the unwitting wallow in himself that came with hours spent silent in his lair, lost in the static hum between video games, it made perverse sense.  
  
He spent every living moment, anxiously avoiding capture.  
  
His tormentors, stern, vicious men, who grabbed and wrestled with him, who hated him to obliteration were his only regular human contact. They were the only people who touched him, leaving him with scars to remember them by and in all truth each and every one of them wanted him in their way.  
  
Of course his needs, begun by this, unshaped by peer pressure and based around a legitimate terror of intimacy had evolved to be unconventional.

Entangled with survival, the same as everything in his life, his expression of his needs were cold and hard and ruthless.  
  
When, after not long, he got bored of his hand, he began to jump to certain places. Anonymous bars in dingy alleys in certain districts where he could use people like objects. Where he was an object himself. Punky, twinky, rough trade. All that mattered about him here was the fact that he looked enough younger than his age to be cute and that he would hapily take it up the arse after a few beers.

Empty fucking was one of the few areas of human interaction where being a jumper was a real advantage. Griffin got a lot of it in. When he was done with one guy he could immediately jump out and find more. He had no need to be ashamed either because he had noone to answer to.  
  
When he discovered fucking at first had been so lust drunk that he did it all the time, showed his face in public too much, grew careless about advertising his location to the men trailing him.  
  
Roland was sometimes uncomfortably hot on his tail.  
  
He'd learnt to be more sparing since. Now he planned everything. His boldness and selfish pleasure seeking down to a science. He never failed to score quick.

*

First place he jumps to there's a fit bloke sitting at the bar, built like a brick shit house. It's like he's waiting for him.

Griffin scoots in next to him and smiles. The guy just stares, hostile, bothered by the attention.

Griffin extends a hand to be shook but gets another cold look instead.

"Fine, don't shake my hand then," he says.

"Yeah don't worry dude wasn't going to."

Griffin's eyebrows quirk at his spikiness, he likes this one all over again.

He leans in closer.

"The fuck's your damage man?" The guy asks.

"My damage? You fucking Americans eh. No one would even know you were speaking English half the time," Griffin says belligerent.

Moody jock swallows a regretful laugh. It's hot. That makes Griffin impatient to touch him. He looks at him trying to seem casual but restless energy licks the soles of his feet and he can barely keep still.

"Ok mate I'll level with you, my 'damage', is I wanna damage you."

"You wanna damage me?" The guy repeats, face contorted by his dubiousness.

"Yeah you know, take you out back, suck you off till you lose it down my throat, that sort a thing."

The guy's eyebrows raise then he shakes his head, eyes narrowing, "What?

"Exactly what I said, I think you're fit, I wanna blow you."

Griffin tries his hardest to communicate the sheer lust that drove him but without the social wiles to flirt he could do little beyond rather solidly looking him in his eyes. Still the guy looked at him disbelieving.

"Weird joke dude," he says shaking his head.

"No joke son, all honest and true here. All you've got in the ends your truth isn't it? Or was that your self respect?" Griffin pretends to consider it.

The other guy snorts at that and Griffin smiles, "Ah well, fuck that eh?"

His quarry openly laughs then, shaking his head.

Griffin smirks finding himself quite funny in hindsight but can only quell his impatience for a few seconds before, driven, he asks again, "So d'ya want your cock sucked or what?"

The guy's interested, obvious from the fact that he hasn't flat out refused, but after a minute he says, "Nah kid I'm good."

Griffin laughs, energised by his patronising brush off, if he had the time to spare he'd take great pleasure wearing this one out with sarky comments but jumpers aren't ever really safe enough to have time.

There's another guy near them, listening in. Early thirties. Hair the sort of taupey brown that he would probably have whoreishly called blonde when advertising his arse on some gay pick up site. Griffin doesn't care, until said man says to him, "If he ain't interested you can suck me off if ya want."

Griffin pauses and thinks, though his heart was set on the big handsome guy the truth is he's not getting anywhere with him anytime soon and given that he needs to get off tonight and every minute he spent in a major city was a risk of capture he should probably go with speed over quality.

"Yeah?" Griffin says staring at him frankly.

He gets a nod back.

Thinking what a pleasure it's going to be to jump away from this douche later, Griffin jerks his head in the direction of the nearest toliet, "Step into my office then."

The Jock looks up as he walks away, clearly a little put out at how easily he was replaced but Griffin has no use for noticing it.

*

Once they get behind the closed door of the cubicle the other guy immediately unbuttons his pants. It is funny that they can so easily do this, right up until he gets his cock out.

Its half hard already, reddened, in need of attention.

For that Griffin slips to his knees aroused. He takes it in his hand close to his face, its warmth against his cheek, then spreads lips over it, mouths it.

The guy moans and sighs fulfilled and ruffles warm hands in his hair, massaging either side of his head. This. Need for him. Physical contact. The presence of another human being. So simply settling. It makes Griffin's heart thud in his chest in a way that a lonely, fevered wank staring at the hard ceiling of his lair could never have hoped to compete with.

It's been so long he thinks. Might be so long until it's safe to make it happen again.

As he licks, savouring the salt and sensuality of being full he knows that tonight, cock sucking, even if he sucks off multiple guys like last time, won't be enough to get him off.

The stimulus needed to get off rises like this everytime he does this, making his behaviour more and more extreme.

Twisted, worrying, potentially dangerous even, but as someone who has been handling his shit and evading trained killers since he was a little boy, not something he is afraid of.

He slides his mouth back, ignores the dude's irritation and smoothly gets up again. Stood he unbuckles his belt, pulls his tight trousers down his thighs, turns to face the wall, and straddles the slim rectangular toliet bowl, exposed arse out, elbows braced on the cistern.

The guy behind him hesitates. Too long. With all the deprivation of Griffin's life the mere threat of more makes him irritable and cocking a look over his shoulder he demands, "Come on!"

More hesitation follows this. Griffin presumes he's putting on a condom but hears no sounds to indicate it.

"Need me to draw you a fucking map?"

"I don't have condoms." The guy confesses.

Griffin is irritated by the lack of foresight between them.

"If I went and got condoms though? You'd do it right?"

The other guy nods, a limp, pathetic gesture coming out of someone with his prior sluttiness.

Pulling his jeans back up Griffin contemplates not coming back again.

In the end he needs it too much.

He's making his way back to the cubicle, Durex in hand and a man at the sinks watches him interested. He smiles to himself slyly. Guys like him. It's because he looks so young.

When back in the cubicle, the other guy reaches above his head to pull the door closed and Griffin says,

"Nah leave it open."

The guy is nervous and that makes him even more anxious but he's still hard. Good for him. If he hadn't been Griffin would probably have kicked him out and gone looking again. Griffin turns to the wall. One knee on the toliet seat, elbows once again on the cistern behind it.

The guy's hands shake as he slides the offered condom down on himself.

"Calm the fuck down!" Griffin says. It has largely the opposite effect, but with steeling huffs of breath the other guy manages to stuff his cock up inside Griffin.

He doesn't do it well.

Griffin arches his back hoping a change in angle will improve things but it makes no difference, the thrusts up into him that follow are just feeble, like the fucker barely wants to go through with it.

Head down, bearing his inept attempts, Griffin feels fury like lightening through his veins, "You can fuck harder than that!"

Griffin gives him a moment to improve and when he doesn't swivels his head to look round with accusing at the guy whose own face is contorted by disagreement.

"Well you're not gonna come up my arse like that are you," Griffin says.

Their mutual fury with one another dances electric in the air between them. As Griffin stares, in retaliation the guy grabs his hip hard and thrusts up into him deep, gasping at him, "That how you want it!"

Griffin grunts, "Ugh" still furious, then between bared teeth, "Yeah, like that."

Finally riled up enough to fuck like he means it the guy's hips carry on, withdrawing and pounding his fullness harder, deeper into him. It hurts to take it but Griffin just bears down more hunched into the cistern and grunts gutturally "yeah", beneath the guy's hard wrought breaths, the slaps of his thighs against his. Then he's hitting his prostate and as he goes hard at that little spot that fills Griffin with repairing light, the guy's mouth gives off a constant litany of supportive, hateful eroticisms about how he'll get it fucking hard, if he wants it hard, fucking slut. It's arousing, everything so perfect that Griffin tries to store the memory for later times, when he has no choice but to knock one off at 'home'.

In the end it's too good, the guy's rhythm quickly starts to go. "Slut." he says with one last ragged thrust, before his hips stutter and he shoots into the latex with a muffled moaning sound.

So explosive, so full of fire, so quickly fizzled to nothing in the grass.

Bastard. Griffin thinks. Couldn't even hold on till he made him come, it wouldn't have taken that much longer.

"That all you've got?" Griffin says.

There is silence to that. The other guy moves away, zipping up

Griffin is more frustrated than when he came in, his cock rock hard. He tries to stroke it but there is no relief in the tired feel of his own hand, just taunt and pain, he needs someone to force the spunk out of him. He hisses trying to squeeze it down so he can put it away. A ludicrous, excrutiating task doomed to fail.

He hears a sound and remembering the door is still open looks over his shoulder expecting to see the guy who just fucked him, waiting to talk, planning to jump away somewhere else when he does.

Instead in the doorway stands the guy from the sink.

He's hot enough, eyes some absurd blue in a manly, middle aged face.

Best of all he has his cock pulled through his fly stroking it off.

Now it's a fucking party.

Jeans still round his thighs Griffin bends over the toliet bowl again, arse in that receptive curve, he stares back over his shoulder at his new friend, silently pleading with him to be quick.

Nod, nod, stroke, stroke, goes Mr handsome, silent, eyes just staring still at Griffin's arse, mesmerised.

It's sexy but infuriating. Griffin snaps at him, "Come on!" holding a condom out behind him.

This guy is an improvement over the last because when Griffin looks up at him he's smirking and says with a laugh, "Need to get hard enough for ya."

Too desperate with need, wanting to slip down into darkness, captured, Griffin straightens up and offers, "You want me to suck it?"

The older man nods and points down to the floor before his feet. Griffin kneels there, right there, cheeks flushing in the heat of his arousal and swallows him down immediately hard, inciting, until he finds himself taking the guys desperate thrusts. Given it just to the point of causing pain Griffin scratches hard over the guy's thighs, slapping them, until he gives it really intense to his throat.

Everything is gone with this overwhelm.

All his stress, the unfairness of his existence, everything of his grief, of his sad years of isolation, the alienation, the pain of being hated for things beyond his control, all of it is truly gone, like it had never been there. There is no space for it now that all of him is getting off on the terrifying fulfillment of being choked for cock, of existing purely for its plunder.

Such forceful surrender in sex is a desperate pleasure to Griffin who can never give the slightest hint of it anywhere else in his life.

He has to slip his fist on his own pulsing, wet cock the moment he is given breath.

Looking up, finally able to, he remembers that they are conducting business in the doorway of the toliet. There are 2 other men crowded in a little semi circle outside watching them. Griffin licks the dick in front of him in front of them.

His eyes are fuzzy, head dozed by lust, his knees hurt, his hole aches.

No nonsense he aims his arse to the waiting crowd and says, "Who wants a fuck?" All it does is make them titter with laughter. He looks up from where he's gone back to tracing the guy's piss slit with his latheing tongue and says "Who made a fucking joke?" Then, decisive, he points to the youngest guy, the most attractive, and says "Come on."

Griffin learns that slapping the thighs works just as well when he wants a guy to fuck his arse harder as it did with the throat fucking. Not that the guy behinds him needs much encouragement after a while, his hands holding vice grip tight to his hips, ramming his thickness into his need until it hurts, able to get in deeper and faster than the guy before. The burn laced pleasure in his arse, with the burn of the choking, sucking reflex from taking that cock back in his mouth and down his throat is so satisfying.

He grunts and pants gutturally when he can. It is nothing but high sensation. No irritation or woe, or dismay for himself, just the simplicity of knowing he is good, from the harsh breathed, curses and names he receives from the men using him.

The condom is quickly dispensed with, dropped on the floor in time with a spray of warm, wet cum over his backside.

There is no mourning this time because it isn't long before another is inside him. Griffin enjoys the feeling of this hard on in his arsehole with a silent, blissed out smile and closed eyes when something rudely swipes his lips. It feels and smells like another hard, wet prick so he opens his mouth for it to push inside him without opening his eyes. Smooth sailing into his passages tonight. They are still closed when someone comes, warm and splashing against his cheek with a furious hiss of "Fuck!"

It's not the guy he's sucking off, his mouth still working that impressively large, stiffness but this guy congratulates the cummer joyous.

"That was fucking hot!"

That voice. Griffin knows that voice. Recognition opens his eyes and his sight blurry with cock choked tears fills with the sight of the young, built guy from the bar, still so handsome, sat on the toliet seat pushing his dick into him as he sucks it off.

He sucks off it enough to say furiously, "Knew you fucking wanted it."

The guy just smirks down.

"Bastard" Griffin spits looking up at him venomously before smirking and bending his head back to his task. He sucks it with real intent concentration, swirling his tongue, licking flickery light, then alternately hard over the tense velvet of his cockhead, really wanting to do it good.

The jock's fingers stroke small beneath Griffin's ear. "That cock good?"

It draws Griffins's eyes open again and his attention back to that face.

His smile is so soft and gentle down at him, so approving - such a rare expression for Griffin to see in a face, especially in such a situation.

Tired now, exhausted by all the dicking, guts soothed by how sore he is, by the fact that now with the jock's cock in his mouth and his hands soft on his face he really has exactly what he wanted, he just opens his eyes and says "Mmmmm." around it.

"Uh the vibration, fuck ... And your face is just covered in cum ..." The jock says and at that his big hands slip around to the back of his skull and he's thrusting, fucking his mouth, towering over him with his cock, but so sweetly.

Griffin takes, feeling that same spasm of want at his helplessness as before, cock throbbing big and full through the fly of his jeans. Still the other talks, "I've just been watching those other guys just fuck you," he says, "So hot, I'm gonna give you such a big load in your mouth."

It sounds so good. Griffin agrees, humming, "Mmmhmmm", vibrating on that cock again on purpose this time, wanting to show the Yank how nice he could be. In ecstasy he grabs Griffin's hair. Griffin's cock pulses hard at that until he thinks he's going to come for the first time all night with nothing up his arse and no hand on it.

He needs to hold onto it a bit longer so he takes his mouth off to cool down.

It's quiet around them, no one is touching him but the big guy. Now he's not focusing on anything else his ass burns, obscenely heavy, but he bears it, nothing can fucking beat him if no Paladin ever has.

He spits into his palm and strokes the warm wad of it agressively up and down the guy's hot prick.

The gorgeous creature locks eyes with him for a bit then quirks a finger towards his face, just gestures, dismissive, knowing Griffin will give him whatever he wants.

Griffin doesn't usually kiss, feels too much like a promise he would never want to keep, but this time he just leans up. Their mouths move smooth and slow, tongues sliding. As they seperate, lingering lips and tongues the guy groans, shudders and his erection pumps cum all over Griffin's hand.

Griffin eyes the cum then, thinking why not, immediately licks a little off.

The guy looks down at him with his brow furrowed.

Feeling judged, Griffin turns his eyes hard and aggressive onto him and licks the rest off. The other dude just looks back equally violent, like he's about to smack him for the look alone.

Griffin shudders puts his hand on his cock and wanks himself while looking up at him

Leaning down, pulling his hair again, whispering in his ear he says.

"How bout I just shut the door and give you what you need."

"I don't need anything from you mate." Griffin says wanking himself off and it's true, it's not going to take more than a few strokes before he comes.

He leans over and awkwardly takes him in his fist hard.

"Fuck off," Griffin says.

He doesn't, just squeezes him painful hard.

Griffin squirms and he leans in and pants at him, his breath spilling over his lips.

"Look how hard and wet you are man. It's begging for me."

He's stroking him, soft now, pulling that pleasure out from the pain again.

Griffin can hear his own noises now and he regrets the desperate, girly peaked ah that draws from him.

Like he was given permission he didn't know he was waiting for, Griffin closes his eyes and feels it begin. He should jump now, get back to his lair, spray spunk all over his belly, enjoy the smooth fade of the afterglow in his bed among his own scent where he can leak into hot sleep but he can't, he finds has to just stay there and come and come, relaxed.

He's pretty sure he sprays up the guy's T-shirt a bit when he lets go and that is enough to make him laugh.

"What's funny?"

Griffin coughs and gets from his knees to his feet and just turns away from the bloke who is still sitting on the toliet seat to do his jeans up. He rips off toliet roll to clean his cheeks.

He just plants a hand warm on his ass, speaks.

"You're hot man, why you just let guys fuck you like that?"

Griffin thinks he should jump, fuck this guy and has stupid questions, but he looks back and they guys smile is such a peculiar, sinister little curl that he wants to engage.

"May as well."

"Cavalier."

"Easy to be, I've got fuck all to lose, no family, no friends, no life to speak of."

He sits forwards on the edge of the toliet bowl until his knees touch Griffin's knees as he stands over him, and face upturned says,

"Really? You sound like my ideal man."

Griffin raises his eyebrows.

"Yeah well reality would leave alot to be desired."

"I don't think so."

He is looking up still and he's so intense and physically strong, hands wrenching Griffin back to him by the bottom of his leather jacket whenever he tries to put further distance between their bodies.

"What's your name man?"

Griffin just smirks at him, much more of this shit and he really is going to jump.

Any second now.

"I said what's your fucking name?"

He's going to jump. Really he will. He just needs to get the other guys hands off him and he can be away.

"Look mate I don't really play well with others."

"Well enough," He argues back, that crooked smirk back on his face.

Griffin breaks free. He is going to do it, instead he talks.

"I'm poorly socialised alright, I'm not very nice."

"Yeah. How about we go somewhere and talk about it?"

Griffin has no clue why he doesn't just jump out of there then.

Then it's too late because the other guy is standing up, quickly, over him, grabbing him hard by both his wrists with a whisper of.

"Don't be scared ok."

Griffin frowns and is about to say something when a flash of familiar blinding light surrounds him.

Then, just like that, Griffin suddenly finds he is ontop of a statue, black night, surrounding, wind whipping past his flesh, chilling his scalp.

From a bathroom to ontop of a fucking statue? He had not jumped them out of there, not at all, which means the guy had to have done it.

He was a jumper. A fucking jumper.

It's hilarious.

The minute they land and make eye contact Griffin jumps to his lair in Tokyo briefly, then zips back to him again, lightening fast.

The big guy is startled. "Fuck you're a Jumper too?" He asks disbelieving.

Griffin nods, instantly starting to regret the fact that he told him. He normally had no problem defensively keeping his advantages to himself, it was almost like this one disarmed him or something.

The guy grabs a hold on his leather jacket and kisses him hard.

It's fucking hot. It distracts his suspicion. He lets the guy drag him down to the freezing brick.

He's talking fast, breathless,

"Fuck my last boy he wasn't a jumper and I had to leave him cos Paladins were threatening him, his family. But I won't have that problem with you."

"Wait a minute, with me? You're not doing anything with me mate."

"Fuck you man," He says smiling and within the second he is holding Griffin by the shoulders like he is a precious thing and from there he pulls him, protesting, into his massive arms. Griffin goes unwilling at first, then it's so warm, so soothing. Somehow Griffin's not scared of him and is in his lap, between his legs, curled into him and his big arms clamp him tight to his big strong torso with its masculine scent in a restraining hug.

It's too nice to fight against. He sinks into it.

Within seconds his defenses rise up harder.

He starts to worry if this is all some elaborate honey trap, that if he lets go, he will come back in a net, tasered to within an inch of his life, that he will be manipulated into giving up his intel on other jumpers

His body urges him to jump even more and he almost does, fear making him forget that this guy can just use his jump scar to follow him if he really does mean him harm.

Then he realises if the guy wanted to tase him and drag him back to his enemies he could right now.

Griffin is in his lap, weak, held by him, but the only movement the big guy makes is to rhythmically grind his cock into his arse while kissing his ears.

Ah well he could always be playing the long game, lulling Griffin further to trust him before springing the trap.

Griffin begins to grind back, automatically, desperately searching for a way to jump away unseen.


End file.
